Mistaken Identity
by DB Sommer
Summary: A humorous shortfic with a case of... mistaken identity.


Mistaken Identity

A Goblin Slayer fic that's meant to be humorous. My first shot at this series, and the first new series I've written about in years.

I don't own the rights to Goblin Slayer.

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Priestess looked at her list of supplies to purchase. Months of traveling with Goblin Slayer had taught her what items would normally be on the list, but ofttimes there would be a new or unusual article. Typically it had to do with some new innovation for killing goblins. Sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn't, but he was always looking for something more effective or specialized than what he already had. He had imagination, after all.

Recently, he had mentioned an alchemist who claimed to have created a sticky, explosive fire that didn't require magic, just chemical reagents. Goblin Slayer had mentioned meeting him after their next mission. He definitely wanted to take it on first. If he went too long without killing goblins he'd grow agitated, and their last mission had largely been a bust. The 'small horde' of goblins turned out to be five, and rather weak ones at that. Killing them had been less than three minutes' work.

This newest lead was more promising since multiple reports were mentioning the same thing about a sizeable group moving into an abandoned castle formerly owned by an undead mage. He had been made regular dead by a band of high ranked adventurers. Goblins loved empty ruins. They were big on squatters' rights.

So once they completed their supply run and got some sleep, they'd set out for the ruins and do reconnaissance for what to specifically expect, and how best to dispatch their eternal foes.

Then to Priestess's surprise, she spotted the familiar form of Goblin Slayer from behind. She thought he'd still be purchasing his part of the supplies on the other side of town. She shouted out, "Hello, Goblin Slayer."

The armored figure turned toward her. She was instantly struck with something being off about her companion. She was uncertain of exactly what it was, but the sensation nagged at her.

He looked at her, silent. She was about to say something when he drew back his head and did the one thing she thought him incapable of.

He began laughing.

It wasn't snickering nor chuckling. It wasn't even a mere laugh of amusement. It was the loudest, deepest side-splitting roar she had ever heard. That he wore a helmet only made the laughter reverberate slightly, which did nothing to lessen the impact of the sign of ultimate humor from a man who she had believed possessed none.

The gales of laughter continued until he leaned forward. She was shocked to see water coming out of the grillwork of his faceplate. He was laughing so hard he was crying a deluge and torrents of tears were flowing!

"What is going on?" Priestess finally asked before her mind completely seized up.

"I can't believe you'd mistake me for that obsessed goofball!" And he went back to uncontrollable laughter.

This wasn't Goblin Slayer? It would explain much but he looked exactly like him. Then again, when you always went about in armor with no distinct characteristics, all it would take was someone of similar dimensions wearing the same one to look like you. Wait a minute, there was something different about him. The fur trim around the neck was black, not white. Okay, this was a lookalike. Not an imposter since he was loudly proclaiming he was not Goblin Slayer when accused of it.

Priestess bowed in apology. "I'm sorry for the mistake, Sir."

Finally the armored man reigned in his laughter. "I'll have you know I'm nothing like that silly man, though we have crossed paths before. Unlike him, I do not squander my life on a wasted crusade against a meaningless foe."

"But Goblins are dangerous!" Priestess insisted. "Too many have your attitude and believe them a minor nuisance when in fact they are incredibly dangerous."

"Dangerous?" he scoffed. "They are irrelevant vermin spread out so much and numbering so few they could have no impact on anything even if all of them were to unite and move as one force."

Having seen them in action, Priestess knew better. "And what is it you think are dangerous in this world? Demonic Overlords?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "A dime a dozen. All the same rambling piles of bones or leathery flesh without an original thought among them. Always the same fool with a different name. And they get in each other's ways so much there's never more than one to deal with at a time. How can one consider such foes to be dangerous when they nicely line up to be slaughtered in such fashion?"

"Dragons, then?"

"Fat, miserly mounds of scales. Give them a pile of gold to sleep on and the occasional cow to eat and they're no problem to anyone. The lazy beasts only cause problems when someone motivates them to move, like a bunch of dwarves poking them with sticks or little people with invisible rings traipsing on top of their gold. Stupid idiots."

"Well then why don't you enlighten me as to what is dangerous?"

And then a dark cloud settled over the man. It was like when Goblin Slayer was angry about something… meaning goblins, since nearly every emotion he had was tied to them either directly or indirectly. "Oh, I know what is truly dangerous in this world. Something overlooked by all these so-called 'adventurers', with their petty little ranks which makes them think they deal with anything of worth. The fools. They bandage paper cuts while ignoring gaping chest wounds. Only I know what truly needs to be slain."

"And what is it you slay?" Priestess asked.

"The foulest creatures created by the gods: rats."

Several moments of silence passed. Enough that it became a full minute. Priestess tried coming up with something supportive, as was her nature. Finally something struck. "I guess they are the bringers of pestilence. That's a terrible thing."

He shook his head ominously. "Not nearly the worst of their crimes."

"Oh, um, they can get into anything and chew through everything?"

"Mere annoyances. Their true crime, which is nigh unspeakable, is why they must be eradicated from the face of this planet."

"What is it?" she asked in trepidation.

"They make us eat their turds."

And for the first time in her life, Priestess's temper finally snapped and all at once, like a dried twig in the hands of an ogre. "What are you talking about?!"

Now the armored warrior was in full rant mode. "Didn't you know? Rats get into food stockpiles, like grain, before the food is processed. Farmers can't do anything about it, even when they try. There's no way to stop the vermin. When rats eat crops that are stored, they leave poop behind. There're rat turds in everything we eat. When I was informed of this and what they had made me do, I knew there could be no forgiveness. There will be no quarter. No respite. No one makes me eat shit and lives. I will genocide all of ratdom!" He drew his sword and raised it dramatically in the air.

Priestess noted his origin was similar to Goblin Slayer's, only infinitely more stupid. She was about to say as much when a familiar voice said, "Oh, it's you, Rat Slayer."

Priestess turned to see the armored visage of Goblin Slayer. At least she thought it was him. But how could she be certain? Maybe this one would start regaling her with tales of the evil of Southeastern Tree Frogs and how they were responsible for warts or some other drivel.

"Goblin Slayer!" Rat Slayer said, putting her mind at ease. "Have you at last forsaken your ridiculous crusade of uselessness and come to join me in eradicating the true harbingers of doom to this world?"

Goblin Slayer shook his head. "I came looking for my partner. I finished shopping early and decided to seek her out."

"Good news! She has already agreed to join me in my crusade," he declared.

"I did not!"

"We're already booked solid all month hunting goblins. Truly sorry." Goblin Slayer put his arm around Priestess, turned her around, and started to walk away from the ranting warrior.

"How will we exterminate evil if no one will take out the time to do it?!" Rat Slayer wailed as everyone now gave him a wide berth.

As they walked out of earshot, Priestess said to Goblin Slayer, "I can't believe he's dedicated his life to killing rats."

"He's a bit… obsessive," Goblin Slayer admitted.

Priestess pretended not to hear that. "To be honest, given his tunnel vision, I'm surprised he hasn't wandered into a goblin lair looking for rats to kill and ended up dead."

"That wouldn't be an issue for him: he's Platinum Rank."

Priestess' jaw dropped. "That imbecile's that powerful?"

"No. He's much more powerful than that, but the Guild didn't want to create a special rank just for him."

Now she paled. "What do you mean more powerful than a Platinum?"

Goblin Slayer considered that. "Have you heard of a Cult devoted to Ratagan?"

"No."

"They were becoming popular a few years ago. Their priests could cast spells since he was some planar creature, like the goddess you worship. Anyway Rat Slayer got it into his head that Ratagan was the god of rats, since his name had rat in it, and disappeared for a while. Then one day the cultists couldn't cast spells any longer. Then a while after that Rat Slayer showed up and announced Ratagan was evidently not the god of rats since they were still around. He was bummed out for a while."

Priestess turned even more pale. "He killed a god single-handed?"

"Some theorized it might have been a demi-god since its worshippers were only cultists and not members of an actual church."

"That doesn't make it any less disturbing!" she insisted.

"And now he continues his ridiculous crusade against rats," Goblin Slayer finished. "He keeps trying to recruit me, but I'm not an idiot like him. I do actual good. Although I do not like the concept of eating rat turds, even if it can't be helped."

Well, there went her appetite. She needed to change the subject. "So are there any other 'Slayers', out there."

"Note Slayer. He's a bard," Goblin Slayer explained.

"And exactly how does one kill musical notes?" she asked.

"I didn't think it possible either, but then I heard him sing in a tavern. I regret to inform you it is indeed possible. I lost at least 20% of my hearing that day. Avoid him at all costs, or at least on karaoke night."

Priestess sighed. Truly it was a mad, mad world they lived in.

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[End fic]

BTW, I wasn't making that up. Go ahead and look up the FDA's acceptable levels of rat feces in food stuffs. All sorts of things end up in your food that might make you campaign against certain types of god's creatures out there.


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